The world seemed to slow, each heartbeat pounding like a war drum in Maximilian's ears. The smell of dirt, sweat, and fear filled the air as the hostile humans edged closer, their weapons glinting in the fading sunlight. Pitchforks, rusted blades, and makeshift clubs—all pointed at him. Their eyes were wild, driven by fear rather than courage.
His breath came in short, ragged bursts, his mind racing to make sense of the chaos.
Then it happened.
[Ding!]
The sound rang out, cutting through the tension like a knife. Sharp, mechanical, and entirely unnatural.
[System Activated.]
[Host is deemed to be in danger. Teleportation initializing...]
Maximilian froze, the words floating in his vision. "A system?" he whispered, barely believing what he was seeing. His mind flashed back to stories from his past life—books, anime, manga—worlds where ordinary people were granted extraordinary powers, guided by a system. It had always seemed fantastical, but now it was real, right in front of him.
But before he could process it further, the notification changed.
[Teleportation failed]
[New mission initialized: Survive for an hour]
His heart sank. "What—?"
He barely had time to question it before the villagers surged forward, their movements disjointed but filled with violent intent. One man lunged with a pitchfork, the rusty prongs aimed straight at Maximilian's chest.
Instinct took over. He sidestepped, barely avoiding the strike, the prongs grazing his side and ripping through his tattered shirt. The pain was sharp but manageable. He glanced at the tear—just a scratch.
The crowd pressed in closer, shouting curses and threats. Someone threw a rock, and it struck his shoulder, making him stumble. His wings twitched, desperate to unfurl and take him to safety, but the weight of the situation kept him grounded.
"Why did the teleportation fail?" he muttered, panic creeping into his voice. The system had promised escape, yet he was still here—cornered like a wild animal.
Another notification appeared, pulsing urgently.
[Survival Tip: Keep moving. Stay unpredictable. Utilize the environment.]
"Survive… That's going to be hell," Maximilian whispered, trying to steal his nerves.
He glanced around, looking for anything to use as an advantage. The narrow alley was lined with old wooden crates and broken barrels. In the distance, he could see a dense forest just beyond the village perimeter. If he could break through the mob, he might have a chance.
A sudden lunge caught him off guard—an older man with a cleaver swung at his head. Maximilian ducked, kicking the man's legs out from under him. The man fell backward, but the crowd only grew more enraged, some stepping over the fallen body to reach him.
Adrenaline flooded his veins. He needed to act fast.
Maximilian grabbed a broken plank from a shattered crate, holding it like a makeshift club. Another villager—a burly woman wielding a rusted scythe—charged. He blocked the swing, the wood splintering on impact. Before she could recoil, he swung the remains of the plank upward, striking her in the chin and sending her sprawling.
[Survival Time Remaining: 58:30]
Only a minute had passed. Maximilian's chest tightened. How was he supposed to last for an hour?
More villagers pushed forward, their faces contorted with hatred. He caught snippets of their shouts:
"Monster!"
"Abomination!"
"Kill it before it curses us all!"
His heart twisted. Why did they hate him so much? Was it his wings? His horns? Or just the aura of power that seemed to radiate from him?
A rock struck his thigh, and he nearly buckled. Pain shot through him, but he forced himself to stay upright. He had to move—staying in one place was a death sentence.
He spun and darted toward the forest, shoving through the crowd, using his wings to buffet those in his way. One brave soul grabbed at his wings, but a swift kick freed him. As he broke into the open field, he heard the angry mob pursuing him, their footsteps pounding like thunder.
The forest loomed ahead—a sanctuary if he could just reach it.
[Survival Tip: Utilize natural abilities—enhanced speed and endurance activated.]
The boost hit him like a jolt of lightning. His strides lengthened, his breathing steadied, and the wind seemed to bend around him, propelling him forward. He glanced back, seeing the villagers falling behind, their curses fading into the distance.
But it wasn't over.
As he reached the forest edge, he heard the clanging of a bell—an alarm. They were calling for reinforcements. He knew the villagers wouldn't stop until they'd hunted him down.
Once under the cover of trees, Maximilian slowed, his instincts sharpening. He moved quietly, stepping over roots and fallen branches. His heartbeat steadied, but his mind remained on high alert.
[Survival Time Remaining: 52:00]
He needed a plan. Hiding wouldn't be enough. If they tracked him here, he'd be cornered with no way out.
[Survival Tip: Set traps. Use terrain to your advantage.]
His gaze fell on a cluster of thick vines hanging from a nearby tree. An idea sparked. He quickly fashioned a snare, using the natural tension in the vines. With his enhanced strength, he bent a sapling, tying the vines to it, creating a trap that would snap upright when triggered.
He set several more along the narrow path, obscuring them with leaves and twigs. Then he climbed a large tree, wings folded tight, perching on a sturdy branch where he could see the trail below.
The sounds of pursuit grew louder. The villagers were fanning out, searching the forest. A few stumbled into his traps—the sharp crack of a sapling whipping upright, the yelp of surprise and pain.
Maximilian couldn't help the small smirk that tugged at his lips. It wouldn't stop them all, but it would buy him time.
[Survival Time Remaining: 45:00]
He couldn't relax yet. He needed to keep moving, but exhaustion was creeping in. His muscles ached, and the adrenaline was beginning to wear off.
[System Alert: Enhanced endurance at 50%. Rest recommended.]
A branch snapped nearby. Maximilian stiffened, holding his breath. A group of three villagers trudged past, weapons at the ready, eyes scanning the forest floor. One of them glanced up, squinting into the foliage.
Maximilian pressed himself against the trunk, blending into the shadows as best he could.
The villager moved on, oblivious.
Relief washed over him, but it was fleeting. He had survived the initial attack, but he knew it wasn't over. They would regroup, bring reinforcements, maybe even set fire to the forest to flush him out.
Maximilian clenched his fists, his fear giving way to determination. He wasn't just going to survive—he was going to fight back.
His golden eyes narrowed. If he was to be hunted, he would make sure they never forgot why they feared him in the first place.
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